


Decade of Decadence

by azfellbooksellers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Aziraphale changes outfits FOR ONCE, BIG The Great Gatsby vibes, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Much to Crowley’s surprise, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azfellbooksellers/pseuds/azfellbooksellers
Summary: A chance meeting, a grand party, a bout of misunderstandings: business as usual when you’re an angel and a demon in love.Written for the AZ Fell’s “Love and Lust Through the Ages” Zine.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44
Collections: Love And Lust Through The Ages





	Decade of Decadence

**Author's Note:**

> Content creators for the zine were meant to wait until May to publicly post their zine submissions, but given the current circumstances, we decided to release early and provide some stories and art for people now! I hope you enjoy this one!

Crowley tilted the delicate glass back and let the fizzing liquid pour into his mouth, quickly downing the champagne. A man carrying a golden tray passed by and he snatched the last glass from it with a smile. He walked through the foyer and marveled at how the home opened around the threshold. A brilliant, shimmering chandelier looked down on the party goers. Beautiful people dressed in expensive clothing slunk across the room with seductive, practiced walks. Typical partygoers, really. The true centerpiece was an extravagant staircase that divided the room directly in half, nestled between twin banisters made up of delicate metalwork. 

There, at the top, was Aziraphale. In the six thousand years he’d known Aziraphale, the angel had stuck to soft whites, gentle creams, and baby blues. He liked to tease him for being so stereotypically celestial in his wardrobe, if only because it evoked such endearing tutting from Aziraphale (though, Crowley could hardly judge the angel’s clothing considering the nature of his own). In fact, he secretly loved the muted colors and the way they accentuated the angel’s soft curves. 

Tonight was different. Aziraphale stood at the precipice of the staircase, clad in a midnight black suit that hugged his body in ways Crowley had never seen before. He took in his stylish, modern shoes, the tight tailored fit of his straight edged dress pants, and the sharp lines of his impeccably fitted jacket, where it dipped in slightly at the navel and came back out on either side. Crowley swallowed, his mouth dry, champagne forgotten. 

A woman stood slightly to Aziraphale’s right. She had a long, crimson dress, a slim boyish figure, and tightly cropped, perfectly formed curls, framing a chiseled face. His hand twiched around the glass as she playfully pressed her hand against Aziraphale’s chest, laughing. 

Unable to stop himself, he called out, “Angel!” Aziraphale tore his gaze from the woman to his right and looked right at him. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat as their gazes met and Aziraphale’s shock melted into warm familiarity. The grin tugging at his lips fell as soon as he felt the other eyes on him. Crowley glanced around the room and saw dozens and dozens of heads turned to look at him. 

“Er,” he began. The throng of people regarding him with ireful, suspect expressions pulled the memory of Hell’s trashing crowds and sulphur thick air to the forefront of his mind. It took less than five seconds for him to bolt through the front door.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stomped with purpose on his way up the long, slanted driveway, gravel crunching noisily under his shoes. The sound of footsteps grew louder without any effort on his part, and then split into two distinct sets. 

“Crowley!” Now he could hear the panting and huffing behind him, growing closer every second. “Crowley, honestly,” came the exasperated follow up.

He sighed, stopped, and turned on his heel. 

Aziraphale was jogging up to him, looking more than a little ridiculous trying to run in new shoes and a tight suit. He caught up and his knees sagged, hands coming to rest on them and cheeks puffing out as he caught his breath.

“Good lord Crowley, you really do walk fast.” Crowley turned to look behind him and noticed that the house was nearly a quarter mile away at this point. 

Aziraphale regarded him with an air of confusion, his light brows knitted together and creasing the pale skin of his forehead. 

Crowley’s stomach churned like riotous waves, threatening to pull him under a tide of emotions. A lump bloomed in his throat and stuck there. He swallowed, trying to wrench it free to no avail. His feet sunk into the grass as he leaned back on his feet and crossed his arms. 

“Yeah, well. Got places to be. Things to do. Just happened to be in the area.” He didn’t meet Aziraphale’s eyes. The chirping of the crickets in the wet grass around them was the only sound to be heard, the raucous party long muffled by the distance. 

“It’s ever so good to see you, dear boy, but you did make quite the scene! It’s taken me weeks to get in with this family, and I’ve had to wear this ridiculous thing.” Aziraphale gestured at the chic suit as if it were a clown costume. It drew a smirk from Crowley that he quickly tamped back down.

“It’s what I do, angel. Chaos, confusion, a little bit of absinthe poured into the punch. Part of my job description, isn’t it?” 

“You didn’t,” Aziraphale breathed, face blanched of its usual rosy expression. An unbidden laugh broke from Crowley’s chest against his will.

“Nah, I just like to see you squirm.” Aziraphale huffed and smoothed a hand down his suit jacket. “I really was just in the area. Got a whiff of angel and figured I’d pop by.” 

“Then why did you run out like you were being chased?” 

“Exit, pursued by a bear,” he deflects. The glare sent his way drains his steadily building amusement. “You seemed busy. My mistake for disturbing you.”

“Busy? I was complimenting the hostess on the loveliness of the party and-” 

He stopped short. A stiff eastern breeze washed over them and drew whispers from the trees around them. 

“Oh, Crowley. You were jealous, weren’t you?” Crowley toed at the grass angrily, his face contorted with indignation. He sputtered for a moment, breathy accusations falling flat after a syllable or two.

“Jealous?” he finally hissed. “Me? Jealous? Right, yes, of course. Got it all figured out have you?” 

Aziraphale stepped towards him. The cologne he’d carefully dabbed onto his wrists earlier was coming off him in waves as he wrung his hands. 

“My dear, I am not trying to embarrass you, I am trying to understand. If you weren’t jealous, then why did you have such an outburst seeing me with that woman? There’s only you,” he said quietly and laced their fingers together. “There’s only ever been you. Surely you know that?” 

Crowley deflated like a popped tire; violently, and all at once. The tension drained from his face and left him looking terribly tired. 

“I do,” he admitted. “It’s just hard, is all. I don’t like having to hide this.” He gestured between them. “Hiding us. I want to show you off without having to look over my shoulder the whole time.” Aziraphale laid his hand on the back of Crowley’s neck and drew him down, until a sharp cheekbone pressed into his shoulder. He carded the fingers of his other hand through Crowley’s short, slicked back locks, mussing up his carefully maintained coif. It earned him no protests. 

“I know. I am sorry, my dear boy. It’s hard for me too. But I can’t have them finding out about us. I can’t let them hurt you.” Aziraphale’s voice loses its soothing tone and slips into a dogged ferocity. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Crowley shifted in his embrace and drew back up to his full height. Aziraphale bit back a chuckle at the state of his hair and reached out to fix it. 

He let out a soft noise of surprise as Crowley wrapped his lithe fingers around his wrist and pulled it towards his lips before pressing a chaste kiss there.

“I know, I get it. You’re always looking out for us, aren’t you?” He kissed Aziraphale’s palm.

“I’m sorry I made such a scene back there,” he said, his voice soft in the darkness. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel too bad. You did look terribly dashing while doing it.” 

“It almost seems like you’re trying to tempt me, angel. Are you sure I’m not a bad influence on you?” Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s cheek and stroked the pad of his thumb across it.

“I’m rather afraid it’s the other way around.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Aziraphale leaned in close and kissed him hard. He laid his hand flat on Crowley’s chest and pushed until his back hit the tree behind him. 

“Let me show you,” he murmured between slick, messy kisses. He pulled back for a moment and opened his eyes just long enough to make searing eye contact. Crowley nodded dumbly at him, glasses slipping down his nose and pupils blown. Aziraphale pressed back in for another taste and then parted their lips to sink to his knees. He ignored the wet grass and soft mud staining his pants in favor of pulling Crowley’s belt loose. 

“Angel,” Crowley breathed the word into the air above him gently. “You don’t have to-” Aziraphale hushed him. 

“I want to. Please, let me care for you.” Their eyes met and the adoration in Crowley’s expression spread a pleasant warmth throughout his body. A nod was his response, and Aziraphale turned his attention back downwards with aplomb. Moments later, fireworks burst over the treeline, brighter and louder than any of the partygoers had ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from “100$ Bill” by Jay-Z because I literally couldn’t resist the temptation to name it this.


End file.
